


Nothing is forgotten

by Kazzy



Category: Fringe
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-19
Updated: 2011-09-19
Packaged: 2017-10-23 21:21:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/255101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kazzy/pseuds/Kazzy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the rush of colliding worlds and possible inter-universal war, Olivia realises someone is missing. But she has no idea who that is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing is forgotten

**Author's Note:**

> *Not mine. Not even a little.  
> *So what does happen to little Henry? With any luck we will find out soon enough. But in the meantime I was prompted to write this. Set between seasons three and four.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-  
 _People fall out of the world sometimes, but they always leave traces. Little things we can’t quite account for: faces in photographs, luggage, half-eaten meals... rings. Nothing is forgotten, not completely. And if something can be remembered it can come back. **~The Doctor**_  
-x-x-x-

And now they have a gateway between worlds and god only knows what they’re going to do about that. It’s stable, however, according to the Secretary, backed by Walter’s reluctant agreement and being monitored by both Brandons. Nina Sharp has been acting as some sort of mediator between the two groups and Broyles has been glaring in turn at everyone not from his side, but contributing no more than a token protest against cooperating with Olivia’s universe.

For her part, Olivia has been watching her double warily – and being watched warily in return – wondering how to interact with her as anything other than the enemy. Much of the bad blood between them is her fault, but they’re almost the same person, so there must be a way to find some equal ground? Right now, though, they are so exhausted neither makes any attempt.

Hours and more than a little shouting later, no one tries to stop Olivia when she leaves to go home. Given her supposedly incarcerated state this surprises her, but she doesn’t let their inattention slow her down. All she has thought about since being locked away by the Secretary – aside from the seeming imminent inter-universal war – is Henry. Now that the world is not going to fall down around her ears – at least not before she’s had a shower, dinner and maybe even a nap – she is rather desperate to see him.

At her mother’s she is greeted with a hug at the door. “I was so worried. No one would tell me where you were. Only that it was a matter of national security.”

“I’m fine.” She’s not going to open with excuses or lies but she can’t tell the truth so she changes the subject.

“Is Henry sleeping?” It is gone ten, after all. But she’s desperate to see him.

“Who?” asks her mother.

“Uh, Henry? Is he in bed?” Now, though, something icy claws its way up her spine, as the hair on the back of her neck prickles.

“Sweetheart, who’s Henry?”

The ice has made its way into her brain and she can’t think. There’s a sudden rush of disjointed memories: a taxi... the smell of baby powder... fear and pain... a doctor’s office... Chinatown... something small and warm and wonderful... a park on a sunny day...

And then nothing.

All she’s been able to think about is getting home to see Henry.

But she has no idea who Henry is.

She excuses herself from her mother’s watchful gaze, saying that she’s been awake for two days, that she’s not thinking clearly. It’s not a proper explanation, even given the standards of secrecy demanded of fringe agents and so there’s a brief argument about whether she should be driving, but Olivia wins and not too much later she’s heading for her apartment.

Mentally she flips a coin: shower, food or sleep? But she only reaches a conclusion when she actually arrives home and sees her bed. Deciding there’s nothing in two universes that can’t wait until she’s had eight hours rest (though inevitably the phone will ring in five), she collapses into bed.

The pillow is soft and the covers warm and heavy and that’s all she knows for nearly ten hours.

A shaft of sunlight, shining directly on to Olivia’s eyelids in the first indication that the expected phone call didn’t come. Nor was she woken during the night by anything else – though what other than work might be expected to wake her, especially now Frank is gone, Olivia doesn’t know.

Groggily, she slides out of bed thinking a shower is in order, followed by a cup of coffee – only to remember coffee is something they have in the other universe. She wonders if the other Olivia could be convinced to buy her some, or if she hates her enough to ‘accidentally’ buy her decaf. Maybe if she said it was for Mom...

In her distraction Olivia stubs a toe against a side table, knocking over a stack of papers and a half-empty cup of tea causing both to tumble to the floor. Swearing, she hurries to the kitchen for a cloth, all thoughts of coffee and the other universe pushed temporarily from her mind.

As quickly as she can, she dabs up the brown liquid, noticing that it seems to have mostly kept to one piece of paper. Once she’s dried as much as she can, she peers at it, to see if she should try to salvage it or just give up and toss it.  
There’s more damage than she would have thought possible to single piece of paper covered in spilt tea, almost as if the tea’s purpose was to wipe it clean. But she can just about make out what it reads.

Certificate of Birth

 _Surname: Dunham  
Forname(s): Henry  
Date: 25th March 2011_

 _To:  
Dunham, Olivia (mother)_

The rest of the details, largely fragmented and missing, seem relatively unimportant next to one suddenly vital question: Who is Henry? And why is she listed as his _mother_?

Olivia isn’t sure, but she knows she’s going to find out. No one in any parallel universe will stop her.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-


End file.
